Deepa groaned, she was dying for a shower, but she knew better than to keep their superior waiting.
"Where is he?" Parker asked.
"Interrogation room five," Varn replied. "They just brought in one of the turned ones that's been laying low for decades. Craig hopes that he can make the guy spill the location of more."
Deepa nodded, the three of them falling into line as they made their way through the facility. They passed by a few other teams, all looking equally tired and beat up, before coming to a halt outside of a heavily fortified door.
"Good work out there," Varn said as he placed his thumb on the scanner, granting them access.
"Thanks." Parker clapped Varn on the back as he headed inside. "Drinks later?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Varn waved and jogged back down the hall.
Parker shook his head, turning back to Deepa with a grin. "What do you think, babe? Can I talk you into going for drinks with the boys tonight?"
Deepa arched an eyebrow at him. "You can try. But I make no promises."
He laughed, taking her hand in his. "Fair enough."
They passed by an examination room, the harsh lights glaring off the metal surfaces. Craig was hunched over an iron table, his dark gray hair ruffled and unkempt. There were large bags under his eyes like it had been a busy evening.
Deepa and Parker took a seat on a bench outside the room, watching in through the clear glass.
"How's it going?" Deepa asked Sadie who was sitting on the next bench, furiously writing notes while chewing on the end of her long auburn braid.
Sadie shrugged, her green eyes darting to the haggard man opposite Craig. "It's been a slow night. This one doesn't seem keen on handing over his secrets."
Parker snorted. "Why are they always so stubborn?"
"Don't ask me," Sadie said. "I'm just here to record."
"If anyone can crack him, it's Craig," Parker said with a grin.
Craig's steely gaze bore into a weathered man in his fifties. Long strands of gray hair cascaded over the werewolf's stained flannel shirt and his wrists were firmly clasped in shackles. Restraints held each ankle together.
"Scott Morris," Craig said as he flipped through a file. "It's a miracle that you've managed to stay sane for this long after being infected. We both know that it's only a matter of time before your mind and body succumb to the disease."
"It's not like that," Scott protested, tugging at his restraints. "We found medicine that can help we-"
"Medicine that only prolongs people's pain," Craig retorted. "We both know that the werewolf infection is incurable."
"But people can have normal lives!" Scott insisted. "I've seen it dozens of times! You can help-"
Craig slammed his hand on the table. "Until what? They lapse and bite another innocent victim? Spreading the infection even further? Do you know how many children I've had to console because their parents were ripped apart by monsters like you?"
Scott hung his head. “No,” he murmured. “We're not all like that.”
Craig snorted, “We all know that the only cure is to eradicate the source.”
"Please," Scott begged. "You can't just kill all of us. We're people too!"
"Then tell me the location of your friends! Isn't it better to grant them a quick death instead of suffering for the rest of their lives with a rabid animal lodged in their brains?"
Scott shook his head. "No, you're wrong. It's not like that. You don't understand! We can live together!"
"There is no together. Your people have made it more than clear that it's either us or them." Craig stared him down for a moment, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a small gun.
Deepa gasped, but Parker gripped her hand tightly, keeping her rooted in place.
